I’m not sure that’s entirely what happened (and I have heard varying recollections/interpretations of that day), however I do know that he left the hospital with a little less light in his eyes.
All of a sudden we were moving. Dad came to visit a few times, which was great, but our Saturdays were no more. It was too far and too hard to see him often.
He’s moods grew darker, our interactions tinged with the kind of pressure an 8 year old can’t understand, let alone respond to.
Father’s Day 1988 was the last time I spoke with him. We had gone out for breakfast with my stepdad. Unfortunately, Dad had to be at a coal mine for work by lunchtime and it was a four-hour drive from his house. By the time I called, he had left.
When the phone rang that evening, I knew it would be him. I raced to
